A Stone Throne, an Iron Crown and an Orchard among the Ash
by bloodpurple and murkpond green
Summary: The aftermath of Smaug's death and the battle of five armies has left a grim legacy for the returning dwarf people of Erebor. The Kingdom of Erebor must be rebuilt, salvaged from a tomb of Ash . King Thorin accepts an alliance with the Traders Guild, on the condition the alliance is cemented with a marriage...to one of their own. Thorin/x OC - M/F pairing
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer:

I still continue to own nothing.

Or characters and references mentioning of and pertaining to the realm of Middled Earth belong to J.R.R.T.

Not me.

...although i do have a J in my initials...

No Beta, and thus absolutely riddled with mistakes. I apologise.

* * *

A Stone Throne, a crown of Iron and an Orchard of Ash.

Restless was the silence by which those of the Merchants Guild watched for the herald's return.

Each deep within their own thoughts; staring, contemplating the landscape before them - a land that felled Dwarf Kings, ended Dragons and brought down armies of Orc and Warg.

Three days of talks between Traders and Dwarfs, three days of delicate negotiating with the returned Dwarf Lord, three days of waiting and now an answer rode towards them, but a furlongs away.

A large bay window looked out on the Wasteland that was Erebor. The Lonely Mountain like a carnivorous tooth tore open the land about it, a cruel and jagged canine, like that of the monster that once dwelt there. A monster now dead by flinted arrow but outlived by its own legacy of fear and ash.

Three years since the fall of Smaug, three years since the Battle of five armies and still the land lay like a dead thing. At night the air was still and silent, unbroken by the chirp of crickets, the stirring of trees or the cry of a night bird. In the light of day all was ash and charred rock. The monotonous sea of grey and black broken only by the unwelcome white of sun bleached bone.

The silence in the room was of a weighted kind, heavy and tense. Nine powerful people; six men and three women - the heads of the nine most powerful trading families within the Merchants Guild of the Middle Earth, looked out over a wasteland and wondered if this choice was a wise one.

"It's not very pretty is it."

Eight heads turned towards the speaker.

"And you were expecting what, exactly, from a land devastated by Dragons and Orcs...?"

The first speaker shrugged, "Why exactly do they _want_ to return here, it's _so_ grey and dead!"

"Perhaps Dragons like _'grey and dead'_ ."

This enterprise had seemed like an oppotunity of great potential. They carried Trade within their life's blood, just as surely as molten steel and hammered gold ran through the veins of Dwarfs. Looking at dead land for three days, a thankless task beyond profit and redemption taunted them.

It was not much past midday as they watched the man return, the horse's hooves stirring the dust into a cloud before and behind them. Dismounting with difficulty, the herald tried to soothe his spooked and heaving mount, eyes rolling white and flanks sweat soaked. Beneath the ash the air smelt of Orc and Warg.

The nine watched and wondered what was written on the papers their man carried.

And most secretly hoped the answer was 'No'.

Three scones of candles lit the parchement. Clauses and terms in both the common tongue and the harsh script of ancient dwarf covered three pages that swallowed the whole of the table, spilling to the floor.

The answer was 'yes'.

Staring down, fingers drawn from left to right and back again, muted mutters under breathe; each trader searched through words, seeking trapdoors of ink and poisoned word chalices. So quickly had their terms been met, but the conditions perplexed their pragmatic minds. The way of Dwarfs, although more direct then Elves; Elves with all their ceremonies, water scrying seers and talking to Oak trees could drive a mortal to Mordor.

Elves were tedious.

And tended to forget that mortality for some, was a matter of time - or the matter of running out of it.

However dealing with Dwarfs was nevertheless, still not a path easily transversed.

"The Dwarves are agreed?"

"In the manner that a Dwarf agrees."

The second page held the attention of all Nine.

"Is this union between the Dwarf King and Merchant utterly necessary? "

"It would seem the Dwarfs are adament", a beringed finger traced partway down the page, following a detailed clause marked in both lanuages. "The woman ultimately chosen will be both the Queen and the Merchants Guild represenative for the term of her natural life in the court of Erebor. Or a period no less then 25 years."

Several glances were exchanged and brows furrowed in thought. Several quickly read ahead, studying clauses and terms.

"Would an ambassador not serve such a purpose?" asked the Guild member of Eastern Harbors.

"If a queen sat on the mountain throne, then our vassal would be man - it is as simple as that."

"What about 'This' ", an agitated hand gestured to the terms, "Is simple? How can one person, male or female represent the Traders Guild?"

"Are they not aware that no single individual has the authority over the Merchant Collective only a Vote of the majourity of house heads can decide on any one proposal?"

"They are aware. However it is in tradition that an alliance of this magnitude in the past has always required a union between two significant represenatives of each party."

"Significant?"

"King Thorin?"

"I would hardly refer to him simply as a "significant " individual!"

A derisive snort of one was followed by the chuckle of another. Most were in agreement, King Thorin was an intimidating individual, by any heights or standards.

"I heard he decapitated a Warg with a single sword stroke."

"Regardless of his sword swinging capabilities or Kings need to trade." Philosophised the member of the southern mountain pass, "And I heard that was an Orc."

"Something of three trolls may have passed my ear..."

Wine was poured, accepted by some -refused by some, and the parchments continued to be studied.

"A Marriage? A Union as a guarantee?", one queried.

"Its Archaic." Argued one, a woman with leather armour, a blade concealed beneath each wrist and three daughters.

"They understand the need to move beyond the methods of the old world but not without tying it in some way to the new." Argued another.

The pragmatic fellow of the Western Harbours tried to reconcile himself to the situation.

"But if the blood of both parties was Royal, or of the same people, I could understand! But a Dwarf - _The King under The Mountain_ no less and a woman borne from the Merchant families? We are outside the games of Blood and Birth - we Trade - we do not marry Kings!"

Several heads nodded in support of this opinion.

"What on Middle's Earth does a marriage do, that a contract witnessed and binding by multiple parties - does not?"

"What is this part - 'Regarding The Consumption of both parts?'

Three heads immeadiately followed the script.

"Idiot! ' Regarding the consummation of both parts pertaining to the Marriage'. Where did you learn your Dwarf, from Trogitte?"

"What's a 'Trogitte' ?"

"Enough!"

"King Thorin's Legacy is secured through his Nephews and the Cousin King of the Iron Hills. Marrying the represenative of the Guild allows Thorin's direct influence and to some extent control over immenient trade. Should he marry her to anyone else he risks supplanting his control."

A patient woman with slate grey hair leaned back in her chair. Marked by time, she was famed for her ability of foresight. She drew her fortunes in terms of decades, if not generations spoke suddenly. "He will require his Nephews to marrying noble born Dwarves to secure the Line of Durin. The King seeks no offspring from this union and understands the importance of establishing trade throughout Erebor as soon as possible."

She look about the table, nine people to decide the outcome of two kingdoms.

"He does not need a Legacy - he needs money. Kingdoms are expensive things to build. That is why a trader's child will marry a king."

She folded her hands, skin as translucent as ancient parchment, upon the table and tapped out a quick tattoo.

"It really is rather simple."

"And if she bears a child? A half human, half dwarf heir to the Throne - a claim on the Throne of Erebor?"

"It is not possible - King Thorin has made it a non-negoiatiable clause within the understanding - the line of Durin will pass to the sons of his sister, and if they shall die the legacy of the mountain will pass to the Dwarf Lord Dain of the Iron Hills."

"But if a child is born?" The question softly asked and the answer sought and found on the third page.

"Well?"

The room seemed divided.

A low voice called forth a delicate point.

"When in the last two hundred years they have lost so much, let us be sensitive to the heritage and history weighing upon such a request."

A tall man with a still, watchful intensity about him gave a nod. "Such arrangments are not unknown, although rare - not unknown". He studied the third page intently. "The honor of their people is at stake and the chosen represenatitve is the vassal of its people and the honor of their kind."

"The Dwarfs set to gain much by this arrangement."

"The Guilds will gain more."

"Queen under the Mountain or not, they will not be entitled to act on authority without first conferring with the council!"

Another shared this thought; "We have no single authority. Our power is of a collective, nominated every three years, not one family at any given time has an authority over the hundreds within the Guild. How are we to accommodate this within the Treaty?"

A sense of unease moved about the room. A disgruntled, "Do they know nothing of us?" came from more then one quarter.

"If this is your greatest concern we will have it clearly stated within the Treaty, all decisions will, as always be put to the council - voted upon by the Nine and communicated back to our representative at the court of Erobor."

A mummur of assent greeted this suggestion and a inked quill brought forth to write the new terms.

"The family of this Bride would not in any way have more power nor be granted any authority of the Collective, or the other members of the Merchants Guild. She is simply an instrument in which the Dwarfs wish to cement this union, or agreement - for the period of her natural life - at her death the King of Erebor - be it the King Thorin or one of his Nephews, will be in the position to renegoiate this understanding between the Merchants Guild."

"And if there is a child?"

"The child will be acknowledged and provided for but will have no claim to the throne but be the sole heir of the Lady Mother."

"But a child of mixed blood?"

"Even a half bred Dwarf is precious to a race with as few children as the people of Erebor."

All turned their attention to the last paragraph.

_The Queen has the right to deny the King access to her rooms but shall not take lovers whislt in her office of rulership_.

"Starks and Sails - that is all rather blunt."

"Again, do you truly think it will be that simple?"

"This is transaction, in the starkest terms, and the bride most know this. Although being a Guild Daughter - she will no doubt understand beyond the measure of most."

"In such a position, a Queen to a King - one could gain much."

"Then we must choose our candidate wisely."

"Have you met our Women?"

"I happen to be one_, imbecile_ -and that is why this will work."

"I almost feel pity for this King."

Eight shark toothed smiles rippled across the table.

"Let the trading begin."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

No Beta -sorry about the mistakes.

It was becoming rapidly apparent that women of the Merchant & Traders Guild were not of the ornamental ilk.

Lantarns of coloured paper lit from within by oil lamps from the far East, swung in the gentle breeze casting light like a path of rainbow fireflies. Soft scents of night flowers and musk burnt upon the Braziers cloaking the scent of ash.

Dozens of candles threw shadows across the gleaming floor boards and the gentle hum of conversation flowed between the crowd and lapped up against the orchastra. A bright eyed gypsy fiddled, whilst three man followed his tune on pipes made of palest wood. The mood was merry, the wine excellent and the food plentiful.

Dwalin wanted Ale, a willing lass and his bed. In that order.

He found himself lurking on the edge of the jovality, scowling at the bright folk flittering about, rare exotic birds - all movement and intensity in their peacock colours and foriegn feathers; with their friendly, hospitable manners but expressions always careful and eyes always watchful.

Almost elf like in their precise nature these trader types, always calculating -always thinking. Every movement a product of careful intention and trained in the artform of interaction.

Gain everything and give nothing.

Dwalin had gained some knowledge of these things in the decades he had haunted the steps of the Durin line. And Thorin was about to bind himself to one such as this.

Dwalin cast his eyes about for his King and found him deep in conversation with two older women. The youngest Prince, Kili, stood with a cornered expression, caught by a young woman with wheat coloured hair. He had left the safety of his fellow Dwarfs in search of a fresh goblet and a hind leg of something roasted. His brother Fili, heir apparent and the bearer of greater sense of social grace watched in bemusement at Kili's obvious inability to contribute to the conversation.

Dwalin watched as coins passed hands between the few Dwarves watching on.

Fili broke into undisguised laughter when Kili shaking his head in bewilderment to the question posed by the young woman, asked her if she had any interests outside of commerce.

The Lady turned on heel and strode away, expression perplexed and Dwalin noted, without the slightest decorum - not even a curtsey, due to the rank of a Prince.

A Prince under the Mountain. The Mountain of which thisconclave moved in the shadow of like ants, each and everyday.

No respect these trader types.

Kili cast his bewildered expression to his Brother, "What did I do?"

Fili broke into gwuaffs whilst Bofur elightened the poor boy, "She asked you your thoughts on trade agreements being conducted through the means of exploitation of the unprotected soveriegns, or some suchness."

Kili shook his braids, "Well yes obviously, but why would I wish to discuss that here? Leave it for my uncle and the council in dark rooms about long tables - there is time enough when I am white to the beard for such topics?"

"You would have to grow one first, Elf-Face."

Kili looked about for a suitable item of projection, "If I had a drumstick I would throw it at you. Bah - where is this wine -over there - do I risk it?"

Each in there own turn had felt bewildered, dragged beneath the undertow by the questions posed to them.

A deluge of intelligent vultures nipping at the harrased carcases of lesser minded mortals.

"Prince Fili, Do _you_ believe we should have an import tax?"

"In _your_ opinion Dwarf Lord Nori - how should we go about establishing a community of skilled Labor?"

"My Lord Bofur -do _you_ have an opinion on this?"

"What are _your_ thoughts on this?"

"How would _you_ resolve this?"

"Do _you_ have an opinion of the this?"

Kili weighed up the gauntlet between himself and the heavy table, groaning with food and pitchers of silver, casks of wood.

Bofur gave a snort, " While your there lad, grab a Goblet or two for me, Aye."

Kili, "There would be safetly in numbers...Fili? Nori?"

"And risk appearing a fool, I think not brother."

The clear voice of the Kili's former conversation compainion broke over the gwuaffs of the Dwarfs.

"Perhaps more is required from a ruler then simply being able to behead a Warg."

The Dwarfs looked on the tall figure of the woman.

"Killing a Warg is no simple matter -besides which, Thorin and Dwalin behead - I shook them in the eye with an arrow. "

The woman looked on Kili with interest, "And that worked?"

Fili and Bofur turned to Kili expectantly. "Well no, "Confessed Kili, "It had to be finished off and -"

"Not before making such a noise that a pack of Wargs were brought down upon us." Concluded Bofur, grinning around his pipe and throwing a wink at the Lady.

Fili strode forward cutting short his Brother's indigniant and tactless rebuttal with a cuff to the loosely braided head and offered his sincerest apologies with a sweeping Bow.

"Forgive us Lady, we meant no disespect - my Brother is young," Shooting Kili a telling look before turning a disarming smile back to the Lady, "but we endevour to live up to your standards. "

With a gentle inclination of a graceful neck the Lady moved away, but she had not moved far before Kili destroyed the spider's thread of good accord - "Can I have some more wine?"

"Do you not two hands? Are you not carried upon two legs? Can you not see the pewter with two eyes? Serve yourself Princeling, traders are not waited upon- nor do we wait upon. In our world, you earn your keep."

And with that parting shot the Lady Trader moved to pass through the crowd amidst mummers of approval and gentle laughter. Killi's jaw hung like an unhinged thing.

He moved before her, "I am afraid if I move alone - I won't return."

She regarded the young dwarf before her, before looking over her shoulder and catching the eye of a jovial young man. Summoning him with a glance and a subtle movement of her hand.

"A prince that stands before a Warg and his rider, with naught but a bow and arrow - fears the company of a few harmless Traders and their families?"

Kili threw a glance at Fili, Fili at Bofur and as one all nodded their heads, expressions sincere.

With a catfish grin the Lady tossed a laugh to her approaching companion, "Brother would you be so kind as to guard the left and I shall guard the right - and to the table we shall go."

The young man moved closer, acknowledging the Princes and Bofur with a open smile, "From what do we guard them from, Sister?"

"Boring conversation and contriving Merchants daughters."

Casting a knowing look about them, the young man gave a sympathetic nod, "Ah - t_hose_ dangers - lead on Sister, lead on - carve a path before Master Dwarf Bofur, have you tried the wine from the North? No - the grape is grown amongst Cherry Orchards and the flavour of the fruit comes through the wine, let us taste it!"

Fili gave way to his laughter, holding onto Bofur. The night had been long and confusing, the woman of Traders and Guilds, spoke their minds alongside those of the men. It was becoming rapidly apparent their minds were made of higher stuff then that of forging for gold in roots of a mountain or beating steel and iron into submission.

Dwalin watched it all from shadows that he had lumbered to, muttering some such nonesense regarding the King and Princes' safety. To one of these woman and her Family, his King would be given.

"What troubles you brother?" The gentle rumble of a question to his left, starled him. So deep in his thoughts Dwalin had let himself be flanked. He hid his flare of embarrassment in a growl.

Balin gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder, and looked out over the gaily coloured crowd. Both brothers looked towards the slight dias of the king. All night Thorin had stood amongst the people, listening intently to all questions posed to him - flanked at all times by no less then three of the twelve. The little scribe Ori scribbled copious notes, noting every remark, every introduction - every inflection and questions to answered or asked.

Dori and Bombur held flank, standing just far enough to grant privacy but always close at hand.

Balin brought Dwalin's attention back to him.

"Each woman here brings a dowry worthy of any noble born and a mind made for commerce and economy. "

"Thorin deserves better then this."

"Aye Brother, but it is his choice to make - and no woman I have met this night seems uncaring or unsuitable. Aye, it may be a loveless marriage, and childless but there will be respect and honor - for that we should be grateful."

In his gentle way, Balin brought reason to quell Dwalin's anger. " With the crown and the priviledge of wearing it comes duty. No one has a deeper understanding of this then Thorin. Know this, the line of Durin will continue through Fili and Kili and we will serve them as we have always done. Thorin will not want for our company and support brother, he will not be alone. "

"Besides, " Broke in a jaunty voice behind them causing both brothers to startle, "Some of these lasses are a very fine jewels indeed." Nori slauntered between the two, hooking a lazy arm over Dwalin's shoulder. "Jewels worth forging." He ended with a leer and lascivious wink at the tattooed guard.

"Nori" Growled Dwalin, shrugging off the offending limb of the smaller dwarf, "Watch yourself thief, you may be speaking of your future Queen and Thorin's Lady."

"Ahh -" Nori gave an understanding nod, and withdrew a particularly fine hair pin from his cuff and began flipping it, head over tail. "So now it's 'Thorin's Lady'?"

Balin caught sight of the hairpiece's design, it was a Traders Crest. "Where did you get that pin -Boy? By Mahal's Hammer please tell me you traded upon it and have not thefted here amongst the courting crowd?"

Dwalin gave a growl, turning on the red haired dwarf blocking him from the room.

_"Nori!"_

With a sheepish scowl Nori held the pin out to the elder Balin. "Too tempting." He reasoned.

"Foolish Brat! _Do you know what you have done_? The insult you have cau - ."

Dwalin's growled rasp of words were interupted by a gentle cough and the softest of taps upon his elbow. "Not at all Master Nori, I felt the trade was rather fair. One semi precious stone for four very precious gems, set within such charming cufflinks - I profess myself almost guilty for excepting the exchange, I feel almost as if I have _stolen_ from _you_."

All three Dwarves turned; one amused, one utterly stupfied and the third desperate to destroy something. They regarded the human woman standing before them. A slight build and dark hair cut close to skull led the viewer astray to the speaker's gender. But generous lips and liquid eyes as black as beetle's wings left no question of female. She held up her clothed wrists and made a show of admiring the jewelled cuff links.

"Such a purest blue."

Nori stared, quickly raising his own cuff-less coat sleeves." My Uncle's cuff-links, _How_? _When_? I was only - ."

"Really - Goodness, such a sentimential value - and yet you give them away so lightly. One little, hair pin. "

"No!", Nori reached forward only to be stopped by Balin, the unasked question in Nori's eyes denied with a sad, gentle shake of a whitened head.

"You _were_ warned youngling."

Nori looked distraught then resigned, phsically sagging against the larger Dwarf. Despite his dislike of the slippery Dwarf, Dwalin felt pity. Mahal knows that the Dwarves of this age had few relics of the family that had gone before - much had been lost in the Dragon's fire. The Trader had made her point at the expense of Nori's pride but to keep such a momento of one's family - he felt compelled to try.

"Perhaps Lady Trader, a compromise can be reached." His tone as gentle as landslide.

"I think not Master Dwarves."

"I was only playing..I,I,I would have returned it."

The dark eyed Trader gave a sniff and made to move away.

"Of course you were friend." A fifth voice brought all attention towards her.

A woman bearing grey robes of softest suede, somewhere between her first and second quarter moved between them to stand before the departing Trader, "A moment if you will, _Sister Trader_". A slow but inexorable movement of hands played over the cuffs, the bejewelled heirlooms released and held on open palm, to the wary Nori.

"As you say, we are all just playing."

Nori stared speechless at the kind face, eyes flickering between the open palm and then quickly to Balin and Dwalin seeking, imploring - it was freely offered.

Dwalin reached out plucking the hair pin from Balin's grip and placing it upon the palm before scooping the cuff links up and tossing them in Nori's direction. With a cobra's grace Nori plucked the precious objects from the air, cradling them to his chest and moving to the haven behind Balin's bulk. The out-witted trader gave a huff and a gentle stamp of her a foot before moving to retreat, not before finding a vice like grip about her elbow and a basilisks glare staring her down.

Sufficently quelled she offered the the barest ducking of the head with a hiss,"Only playing, as you say Master Dwarf. May I retire now? "

Dwalin offered a rare bow, "Thank-you Lady Trader" intentionally softening his usual growl to a rasp of sandstone.

With a thoughtful expression the woman held his eyes searching for something, before giving a nod and gentle smile. Moving closer she reached out her hand to Nori in the slow, gentle way of hers. "Be careful young one, how you would deal with a trader, for they will take what is not offered and charge you interest of nothing less then threefold. "

And with a deeper bow and much more grace then her slighted companion the Lady moved off among the unknowing crowd. Dwalin found himself watching until her form was lost beyond the others.


End file.
